


Gather the Ashes and Make Something New

by MrMissMrsRandom



Series: DeirLewSig Verse [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate End to Chapter 5, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Limbs, Memory Loss, Multi, implied infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22698433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMissMrsRandom/pseuds/MrMissMrsRandom
Summary: Another place and time, where destiny was not as cruel as it could be.
Relationships: Diadora | Deirdre/Siglud | Sigurd, Levn | Lewyn/Siglud | Sigurd, Lewyn/Sigurd/Deirdre
Series: DeirLewSig Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039929
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Gather the Ashes and Make Something New

It was as if the entire world had become one horrific inferno, as the meteors soared up, then dropped over their heads. 

They had only a brief warning, due to the shock of Lady Deirdre appearing beside Azelle’s brother. Azelle, Tailtiu, and any others in their party proficient in fire magic began to attempt to cast aside and deflect the attacks. Sylvia was dancing frantically, her dancing rings mimicking the hand signs of the mages as they tried to shield their company from the barrage. But such tactics could only hold for so long. 

Lewyn sent Erinys to the skies to get assistance, while those with horses took their less resistant companions to ride. Lachesis cursed, raising her staff high, and sending out warp spell after warp spell, breaking as Brigid disappeared into a pool of light. There was no victory here, only escape or death. 

Ayra rushed to Lachesis’s side, gripping her horse’s bridle. “Go to Leonster! Get King Calf’s aid!”

Lachesis glared down as she was unsheathing the sword Eldigan the Lionheart gave her as a final token of protection, ready to be used. “I can fight!” 

“That’s not what we need now, go!” Ayra yelled, letting go, and jumping back into the fray, forced to use her arm to cover her mouth to stop from inhaling so much smoke. She had to find Sigurd if their cause was to go on. Shannan, Ulster, Larcei… her future, Isaach’s future…! 

She made it amongst the wreckage of burning corpses, refusing to look too close for fear she would see a telltale sign of a close comrade. She had never been afraid on the battlefield before, until now. 

Among the dust and debris, Ayra saw Sigurd standing, alone, and part of his body looking like he was about to go up in smoke, but he was still standing, still holding Tyrfing aloft, and she could hear him yelling. 

_ "DEIRDRE!”  _ He yelled, filled with pain and agony, at Bellhalla castle. 

Suddenly, a ball of flame fell towards him like a falling star, only to be cast just barely away from incinerating Sigurd by a great gust of wind. Ayra turned, and saw Lewyn was still fighting, similarly burned, but able to cast that spell from Forseti, before a shot of dark power shot through him, making him rise into the air. Sigurd turned, just at the moment Lewyn crumbled to the ground. 

Sigurd stumbled and fell as he tried to run to him, and Ayra only barely made it, supporting him on her shoulders, as Tyrfing fell from his grasp. 

So many shadows, so much blood. Like when Naoise was poisoned in the Spirit Forest by that--

And it was then that everything seemed to come together for Ayra.

Those that fanned the flames of war were here as well. The ones that pushed Isaach to the brink, forcing her to leave her country behind to be ravaged by scavengers. 

Just then, the shadow of wings descended from overhead. Erinys had returned, face pale as she saw her king fall. Ayra made for her, as Sigurd continued to struggle and scream in her grip, coming just as Erinys picked Lewyn off the ground. 

“Take them!” Ayra ordered, shoving Sigurd at her. It would be a heavy load, but it would buy them some time, and get them to a damn healer. Erinys was a soldier, a warrior. She did not argue, only did what was ordered. 

Once the task was complete, Ayra set her eyes on another. She would get Lady Deirdre. They had come so far, and she would be damned if they were leaving without her. 

Ayra dodged attack after attack, taking Astra’s power within her to surge forward, cutting down foe after foe, until she reached the inner castle courtyard, where the woman she sought was standing, trembling in obvious confusion. 

“Who-- who are you? Why do you and that-- that man seem so familiar to me?” Deirdre asked. 

Ayra stepped forward, her hand reaching out. “My lady, we must hurry. Our children need their mothers.”

“Children?” Deirdre gasped, and her hand went to her stomach, and Ayra’s face fell as she saw how round it already was. 

That Velthomer  _ bastard _ , she would slit him from throat to groin! 

“Yes. We will keep them safe. All of them. But we need to hurry.” 

Deirdre, for a moment, hesitated. Ayra tried to school her expression.

“Lord Sigurd wants to see you, and Shannan wants to apologize for not protecting you. Please--”

“E-everything is--”

“Get away from her, you wretch!” 

Ayra only barely dodged Valflame, half her body singed in the process. Deirdre screamed.

“Arvis, please don’t--!”

“I will protect my family with everything I have, no matter what,” Arvis said. Did he understand the hypocrisy of such a declaration?

Ayra snarled, her gaze turning to the horrific man. With the last of her strength, Astra’s will pushed her forward beneath her burning flesh, and she roared in her fury. 

The princess Deirdre collapsed among the ashes and singed hair that remained of Ayra of Isaach. 

* * *

Winter had come to Silesse again before Sigurd could remove the bandages from his arm and leg. The healers had been kind, and Tailtiu tried to look after his progress since she was the only remaining working healer in their company. Azelle was still in convalescence, Erinys had her duties to the Angelic Knights, Edain had traveled with Shannan and Oifey, Claude had disappeared in the chaos of the escape from Bellhalla, Lachesis, whether she made it to Leonster or not, remained unclear, and Lewyn…

Lewyn hadn’t visited him in weeks. Sigurd kept asking about how he was, whether he was healing properly, and Tailtiu answered as best she could. 

“I’ve had to make him soothing tonics, but he still has nightmares,” Tailtiu replied. “He doesn’t talk to me about what, but… well, it’s not that hard to guess.”

Sigurd nodded, though the motion still made the left side of his neck ache, along with his arm and side. He suffered massive burns on his body and it had taken Erinys quick thinking to heal him enough to save his vocal cords. He was also gaining more control over his arm every day, taking exercises in bed to ensure his muscles didn’t develop dystrophy. 

Lewyn, however, wasn’t so lucky: the infection from that dark mage’s magic spread and even Silesse’s best healers were unable to save his arm or one of his eyes. Whenever Sigurd saw that, he felt another curdling of guilt. It was his fault that this happened, that all of this happened. 

Maybe Lewyn sensed his guilt and grew sick of it, and that’s why he didn’t visit him anymore. 

“Please, tell him to take care of himself,” Sigurd begged. “I’m sorry that I haven’t…”

“Hey, hey.” She poked his forehead. “Enough apologies, Lord Sigurd. Look, you should be able to get out of bed in the next few days with a cane. If you want, I can set up an impromptu meeting or whatever.” 

“... Mm.” Sigurd smiled. “Thank you, Lady Tailtiu.” 

Tailtiu theatrically rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah.” 

* * *

Lewyn began to despise the sound of the wind. 

What was once a comforting noise was simply another point of anger and agitation. It plagued him always, even when he shut curtains to it and put muffs over his ears, it would always reach him. 

He no longer carried Forseti with him, even when his mother looked at him with confusion and worry. He stuck with one of Tailtiu’s old thunder tomes, in case the inevitable attack from Bellhalla came. Because of course it would, no way would they let Silesse remain independent, even after failing to claim their territory during the civil war, their potential puppets Daccar and Maios long since put in the ground. Arvis would never allow his golden goose’s first husband to remain alive, and that thought made it easier to fight through the whispers in his dreams of  _ what must be done.  _ That squirming, possessive desire to keep Sigurd alive was one of his remaining grips to his sense of self. 

Did his mother know the full truth of inheriting Forseti? The voices, the purpose of such an inheritance? Or was it just him, and he was slowly going mad? 

He should have died at Bellhalla. The wind didn’t say that, but somewhere deep down, he knew that was what should have happened, just like how Claude had looked so sad when he walked into Bellhalla’s courtyard but did not say a word. But now, where were they, having defied the turns of destiny? Day after day, Lewyn felt he was less and less of a suitable king, and Rahna still held a majority of duties. 

He was resting in the greenhouse, the only place that seemed to be a way to escape the frigid winds when Erinys rushed in. Lewyn had a retort ready and waiting, but was interrupted before he could utter it. 

“Your highness, you must come to the gatehouse!” 

Lewyn’s eye narrowed, and he got out of his chair. “And attack? Well, we’ll show those Granvellian traitors that--” 

“No, it’s not the enemy.” Erinys interrupted once more, and Lewyn thought that maybe the world went mad if she kept doing it until she spoke next: 

“Lady Deirdre is  _ here _ .” 

* * *

She was not the Lady of the Spirit Forest and she was not the Lady of Chalphy. And now, she was not the princess of Grannvale, and she was not the mistress of Velthomer. All Deirdre felt like right now was what she was: a desperate mother with two screaming babes in her arms. 

All the faces that crowded around her were strange: familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. Part of her worried whether that was due to the effects of Bishop Manfroy’s curse, or that she made a mistake, and shouldn’t have come here. What if they took out their anger on her children, or they kept them all as hostages and sold them back to Bellhalla, to an even more protective Arvis and an ever more watchful Bishop. 

They kept saying her name, but it was not in anger: more shock. 

“I’m sorry, there… I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go--” Deirdre began. 

“--Alright, all of you step off.” The green gentleman said, raising his arm up to shoo them off, the empty sleeve pinned back on his other side. Many moved away, though with obvious reluctance, before he turned to her with a strange smile. It was as if he was happy to see her, but also pained. 

“Well, it is good to see you, my lady.” The gentleman said. “Your lord husband will--”

Terror struck. “Don’t send us back to Arvis. I beg you,  _ don’t _ \--”

“Woah, woah,” Lewyn raised his hand up. “Hold on. No one is going to force you to go anywhere you don’t want to.” 

And, despite the gnawing of fear at her stomach, and the twins’ cries to be fed loud in her ears, Deirdre felt her body relax. “Really?” 

“Really. I will give you my word. As a king, instead of a feckless bard.” Lewyn replied with his smile, more tentative, but less strained now. 

* * *

Besides regularly feeding Julia and Julius, Deirdre was given a full night’s rest and given new clothes. She dressed out of her large traveling cloak and layered dresses to try and keep warm into more practical clothing for the weather of Silesse. Deirdre realized that if she came in the dead of winter, she would have run the risk of the three of them freezing to death. She hugged her children closer, kissing the birthmarks above their brows. 

Now that she was here, in relative safety, Deirdre knew that the difficulties were far from over, but was still confused as to what they would be. Later that day, she was escorted to a meeting with Queen Rahna. Strangely, rather than seeing her as an enemy or as a victim, Queen Rahna spoke to her as an equal. It was the first time she ever experienced that, even when she was in Bellhalla’s court. Everyone paid deference to Arvis and her late grandfather. At first, she had been relieved for that, skittish and awkward, like a newborn fawn on crooked legs-- 

\-- Another turn of phrase that she didn’t know its origin. It was not something she learned in Velthomer or Bellhalla. Another thing from her past recalled. But nothing important. Those memories all still lurked in her mind, too shy to burst forth. There were images, faces, of people she knew she held dear. The sword woman looked like the little boy, and the babe in her arms, passing to him, had a tuft of hair the same shade as the lord of Chalphy--

“Lady Deirdre?” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Deirdre replied, trying to hide a blush of shame. “Things… come in and out of my understanding in waves. There are actions that come more naturally, but the proper memories still feel so vague.” 

Queen Rahna bowed her head. “You suffered a terrible enchantment by all accounts. It is incredible that you were able to remember what you can. However, we must consider our options. Now that you have left Grannvale, Lord Velthomer’s claim to the throne is no longer assured. However, that may not stop them. We will have to be vigilant, and you will have to decide what to do when troops come to our borders.” 

“‘When?’ Not… if?” 

Queen Rahna sighed. “Though Jugdral is vast, Silesse is known to have harbored ‘fugitives’ before. They will search here first.” 

Deirdre wilted again but nodded. “Yes. I… I understand. But, please know that I am grateful for your sanctuary. And know that I will do everything in my power to repay that debt.” 

“Forseti and Naga are close kin amongst the crusaders.” Queen Rahna replied calmly. Deirdre was confused again. Weren’t the Crusaders the original king Ced and Saint Heim? The history lessons were so confusing…

“... I do not know what it means to be Naga’s heir. But… I will try to learn.” 

When she left the meeting, still given a strange but much more efficient sling to carry the twins, she came across Prince Lewyn again. He was another familiar face, but didn’t bring up the same tumultuous feelings, and for that she was grateful. 

“How did it go with mother?”

“Queen Rahna is very wise. She can be direct, but also… a bit mysterious.” 

Lewyn let out a laugh. “You’re one of the first I’ve heard to continue after the ‘wise’ part.” 

“I-I don’t mean to cause offense.”

“Don’t worry about it, my lady. You’re both on equal footing as far as lineage goes. She just has a couple decades on you in experience.” 

Deirdre sighed. “I suppose. I hope I can be like her someday.”

“I’m sure you will. You got yourself this far, especially after everything that happened.” Lewyn replied. 

“Mm. Prince Lewyn… do you know where the Lord of Chalphy is?”

Lewyn stilled. “... Probably taking exercises right now, since he got the go ahead to walk.” 

“Did you tell him that I’m here?”

“I told Erinys to let him know.” 

“... I do not know how to approach him.” Deirdre replied. “He must think me awful for what I allowed to happen.”

“Hey, you didn’t know,” Lewyn replied. “Sigurd isn’t like that. Despite all the nasty things the Bellhalla court must have whispered about him, he’s one of the most forgiving and kind men you could meet. A little too oblivious for his own good at times, but…”

Deirdre watched Lewyn talk about Sigurd, and she felt a brief echo of another conversation, between the gates of a castle garden, about a dashing knight that was a lady’s dearest friend, and who would surely come for her. And he did. 

“... Not today, but… soon, can you be with me when I meet him?” 

Deirdre could sense, for some reason, that Lewyn wished to say no, but then he nodded. 

“... Of course.”

* * *

A week later, Lewyn kept his promise, and watched from afar, as the fated meeting between the Holy Knight and the Lady of the Spirit Forest played out again in front of him, just like the songs he had heard in Agustrian taverns. He watched, and watched. Perhaps he said a few words, then silently excused himself. Sigurd might have said something, or maybe he didn’t. Lewyn’s hearing was bad on one side now. 

He walked to the greenhouse, locked the door, and allowed the winds to howl above his screams. 

* * *

It was Deirdre’s suggestion to have dinner, and a part of Sigurd was worried if it was the right call. He had told her of his and Lewyn’s relationship that developed the last time they were in Silesse, and despite how wrong it was, Sigurd told her he was unable to apologize for it.

“I know an apology would not be your true feelings, Lord Sigurd.” Deirdre replied, a smile on her face. “I am not mad. It would be rather hypocritical if I was.”

Sigurd was assured of Deirdre’s feelings, but Lewyn’s were an utter mystery to him. He could not dare to assume they were what they once were. 

A dinner, just the three of them, may bring things to light.

“ _ A-buh! _ ” Julius slammed his tiny fist against his chest. 

“Julius, didn’t your mother just feed you?” Sigurd answered weakly. 

He could have sworn the word ‘feed’ set him off, and Julius’s mouth opened and mouthed at his shirt front, as if expecting Sigurd could provide the sustenance he craved.

“Dear fellow, I’m afraid that won’t give you what you wish, either…” 

There was a knock at the door, and Sigurd called. “Ah, a minute!”

But, customary of Lewyn, he opened the door before he could get there, Julius still drooling on his clothes. The man had seen him in similar states before with Seliph, but it was still embarrassing! 

“Having some trouble there, sir?” Lewyn replied, tone light.

“Well, it has been… more difficult than expected, calming the twins down.” Sigurd replied.

“I can see that. Well, they’re at that age, and neither of them seems to have ever been let out of a caregiver’s arms since the moment they came here.” Lewyn teased, though it hid the underlying truth of it. Many missed their children. It had been some time since they heard babes when the whereabouts of their own were unknown. 

Including Seliph. 

Sigurd trusted Edain, Oifey, and Shannan to look after him as he promised, but even still, the ache never went away.

Deirdre came in soon after to welcome Lewyn and to take Julius, feeding him once more before setting him down in his cradle, next to his sleeping sister.

The dinner is quiet at first, gotten by request from the kitchens, with a few things made that Deirdre suggested. The venison was prepared just as Deirdre had done for him in the weeks after they were wed, and it brought him a small thrill. However, all the other parts of the meal were Lewyn’s favorites.

“I struck a bargain with the old cook to get the secrets from her clutches.” Deirdre joked, how she pressed her fingers together being the only sign of her nerves.

“Well, I will give a good word to cook, and commend you on taking charge, my lady.” Lewyn answered. 

Deirdre blushed a pretty pink, but her hands folded into her lap. “... Deirdre is just fine, Prince Lewyn.”

“Very well, then good job Deirdre. And you can call me Lewyn.”

Deirdre smiled, then looked over at Sigurd, giving him a gentle nod. She wanted him to talk. Oh no.

“How have you been feeling, Lewyn? Your duties have kept you busy these days.” Sigurd asked, then winced at how a flash of anger passed through Lewyn’s eyes.

“Ah, it is what it is. Mother’s happy I’m finally putting some of those lessons I learned as a kid to good use. But I’m surprised you noticed, you should enjoy this chance to be with your beloved now. Not many get that chance, after all.”

Sigurd looked down at his empty plate.

It was at that point that a wail could be heard from the next room over. Deirdre excused herself and went to check. She came back with a crying Julia, face red and scrunched up. Deirdre was quietly talking to her and rocking her in her arms.

“She hasn’t soiled herself, and she doesn’t want to nurse.” Deirdre let out a small sigh, continuing to rock her. “It’s strange since it’s usually Julius who gets fussy at night.” 

Julia was squirming in her mother’s grip until her eyes landed on Lewyn, and she began to weakly reach out her hand. 

“... Erm.” Lewyn answered awkwardly.

“Well, I don’t know if Silvia told you, but Julia loves the color green.” Deirdre offered with a weak smile. “She just immediately reaches for it, and we’re not sure why exactly.” Then, a look of consideration passed her face. “Lewyn, would you mind holding her?”

“What? I’m not… exactly equipped.” Lewyn waved his remaining arm.

“I can help you. The question is: do you mind doing so?”

Lewyn narrowed his eyes, wondering what game Deirdre was playing, before giving a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose not.”

It took a moment to properly balance Julia in the crook of his arm, but once done, Julia stopped fussing, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“... Well, she’s stopped.” 

Deirdre smiled. “Why don’t you try talking to her? She likes that.”

“Does she understand?” 

Deirdre considered that question, “I like to think so.”

Lewyn looked down at the little face. It felt too silly to speak to her with other people around, so he began to hum a small nonsense song instead. The tone was not like the other songs he had once composed, but something more gentle.

Julia’s eyes began to flutter, and in a few minutes, her head fell back, and she was sound asleep. 

Lewyn looked up, and saw both Sigurd and Deirdre looking at him, and his cheeks heated up under the consideration. It was even harder to say what he needed to say, with how Sigurd’s eyes widened and looked so… so… 

Like he used to look at him, so many moons ago. 

“Well, she’s asleep.” 

“She is. You are a natural.” Deirdre told him, and Lewyn was not able to bite back the swell of pride that rose in him at the praise. 

Lewyn helped settle Julia back in bed and returned to the table. However, Deirdre kept her chair closer to his. 

“You want an encore?” Lewyn tried to joke, lifting his cup up for another sip. 

“What you said earlier is true, that not many ever have this chance,” Deirdre said. “... So, shouldn’t you have it as well?”

Lewyn choked on the swig of beer he had taken, coughing, before looking back at Sigurd. “You  _ told  _ her?”

“She deserved to know,” Sigurd answered. 

“Yeah, but…” Lewyn turned back to Deirdre, genuinely confused. “Why are you inviting a homewrecker to dinner?”

“That is an awful name to call yourself,” Deirdre answered firmly. “I have been here for months now, and I have never seen you two in a room together. I know you want to do what you think is best: I have seen your kind heart many times, but this is… not a traditional situation, for any of us.”

Sigurd turned to her. “Are you…” Now it was his turn to blush. “Deirdre, I didn’t know this dinner would… bring that up.”

“Apologies, but, well, it is now,” Deirdre stated, voice soft but firm. “... Lewyn, I wish to make a proposition.”

* * *

That was the first night the three attempted to understand their new situation. Lewyn was reacquainted with Sigurd’s body, but his touch felt clumsy when Deirdre patiently instructed him as he trailed his fingers down her body. Getting passed the two men’s extensive injuries was also a task, navigating scarred over flesh. Yet, they each took their exploration with care. A hard-earned lesson, but one they were grateful for in this case.

Lewyn didn’t think he’d had slept as calmly in ages, face half-buried in Deirdre’s tresses, and Sigurd’s sturdy chest pressed against his back.

Two heartbeats that quelled the tempest inside him. 

They would wake like that for many nights to come. Grannvale sent troops, but Deirdre defended Silesse by their side and officially asserted her individual claim to the throne. The drums of war would beat once more. However, the summer thaw brought aid from the east.

Lachesis, cutting a brilliant figure in her master knight armor, save for the band of black she wore on her arm that matched Finn’s: still so young, but the look in both their eyes aging them by decades. A contingent of knights was behind them. 

Lachesis hugged Deirdre like a long lost sister and wept in her arms when she told her of Ayra’s fate. 

The pain of that day in Bellhalla still reverberated in their souls, and would for years to come. They knew that.

But, Deirdre dared hope, perhaps they could still yet make a better world for their children. 

That night, Sigurd slept in the middle, holding both his loves close, and allowing himself, once more, to believe in lives that defied destiny. 

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE CHECK OUT @astrallevin FOR SOME GOOD GOOD DEIRLEWSIG ART.


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